


To Save the Once and Future King

by Wandererzaehler



Series: To save the Once and Future King [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Diamond of the Day AU, F/M, Last in series, Lots of feelings (again), Original Character-centric, dark in places
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-13 05:15:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7963870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wandererzaehler/pseuds/Wandererzaehler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Allowed to return to Camelot, Will tries to settle back again and regain footing in her once so familiar home. Shortly after her return, she realizes that someone Gwaine has to do with might finally give her the advantage she's been looking for. When a certain box appears in Merlin's bedroom, she knows exactly what to do...</p>
<p>For once ahead of her enemies, she is as determined as ever to save Arthur.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Benefit of the Doubt

* * *

 

Gwaine loosened his arms around me when we could hear steps coming closer. Percival and Leon left the tomb. While Leon looked shaken, with red-rimmed eyes and dishevelled hair, Percival seemed composed and calm, but one look into his eyes told me he felt the loss of his friends as intensely as the others did. As we did.

None of us knew what to say, and so we stood quietly, Gwaine close to me, one arm still around my shoulders, until Merlin and Arthur arrived. Neither of them looked better than Leon.

“William”, Arthur commanded and gestured to the woods. Again, I felt my body stiffen and I needed a few moments before I was able to follow him.

* * *

 

The King stopped a few metres into the wood and waited for me. His face was expressionless while he looked me up and down. I can only imagine what I must have looked like – meagre, with a haunted look, bags under my eyes, scars on my wrists and ankles from the ropes I had been tied with, dressed in rags, with long, tangled hair.

I had no idea what to suspect, and I was strangely aware that the knights and the warlock were staring at us, back from the tomb.

Arthur sighed and opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but then thought better of it and resumed his looking at me. His stare made me feel like I was naked. After a few minutes had passed, I couldn't take it any longer.

“I am deeply sorry I tried to deceive you, Sire.” While I had wanted my voice to sound steady and calm, it was shaking with emotion and sounded weird in my ears. Arthur lifted his eyes from my bare, filthy, scarred feet to my face.

“I regret ever having lied to any of you about who I am and where I came from, I – All I ever wanted was to be a Knight, to protect those who can't protect themselves, to keep Camelot save, even if the price were my own life. I would never, ever hurt you, or the Queen, or the knights. I swear I never tried to kill you and I never would. If I really had wanted to, I could have killed you many times before, in countless situations where no one would ever suspect I had any doing in it. You are my King, Sire, and you will be, for as long as I'm alive.”

I knelt down before him and bowed my head while I waited for him to speak, again. I had said my piece, and now all there was was to wait for him to decide what to do with me.

Arthur sighed again and then he extended his hand toward me: “I believe you”, he said. I grabbed his hand and he pulled me up.

“You are hereby cleared from all charges against your person. I allow you to return to Camelot. You are free to do as you wish”, I felt a smile of relief forming on my face, “but as you have lied to me”, his eyes flickered to my chest, “you are from now on no longer a Knight.”

While a hollow, disappointed feeling quenched my relief, I nodded. It was only fair – after all, I had deceived them. They would never again be able to trust me whole-heartedly, and it was my fault.

“Thank you”, I whispered, and he gave me a tiny nod before returning to the tomb.

* * *

 

At first, I had wanted to make my way back to Camelot myself, but Merlin and Gwaine persuaded me to come with them, reminding me I had promised to let them help me.

We slowly made our way back to the ruins, hindered by Rodor, who was very weak and constantly needed help, and the dead knights we brought with us. There was Elyan, as well as the four knights we had found on our way to the tomb and three other knights who had fallen in the burial chamber.

We didn't stay at the ruins for longer than necessary, but set out to return to Camelot as soon as the stretchers with the dead had been tied to the now riderless horses and Rodor had been looked at by Gaius.

Meanwhile, the knights kept their distance from me and continued to give me wary looks and so I was more than just a bit thankful when Percival suddenly came over and hugged me. He never said anything, but as far as I could judge, that meant he was happy I was back and in one piece. I could only hope, though, that he had begun to forgive me.

I kept close to Gaius, Gwaine and Merlin on the ride back to Camelot, and Gaius' careful questions finally made me tell them about the last few months. When I finished, no one spoke for a long time.

Gaius suggested later, and I was sure he mostly did it for me to have something I could think about: “As you no longer have work in Camelot and no place to stay, I thought I would offer you a position as my assistant.”

Merlin and Gwaine, who noticed my indecision, urged me to say yes, and I did after some consideration – I was with people who knew about me, able to keep an eye on them as well as they could do the same for me, and I would still be quite close to Arthur and Gwen.

* * *

 

It was close to two in the morning when we saw the lights of the city blink through the trees and another thirty minutes until we reached the gate which was, on Arthur's word, opened for us. A shiver went down my spine when we rode through the streets which were once so familiar and now felt strange somehow.

When we reached the citadel, I had a bad feeling I couldn't explain and wished I could still turn and run.

Even when we rode into the courtyard, it was obvious something had happened. Knights in full armour, on full alert were moving around us and out of the citadel in quick march. Arthur dismounted first, followed closely by the rest of us, and hurried to the citadel's entrance. When he reached the lowest step, Guinevere came out of the castle and flung her arms around him.

I was with Merlin and Gaius, the latter of whom had his hand laid on my shoulder for support, and quite close after the King, so that in passing, we heard her say: “... Mordred's gone, Arthur. He escaped from the dungeons shortly after she was hanged. It's almost like he's vanished. The guards searched as far as the river already, but there's no sign of him.”

We all stopped at the same time.

Arthur shook his head repeatedly, shock and disbelief written plainly all over his face, while Gwen kept talking. I felt Gaius' hand tighten on my shoulder, and Merlin's face got whiter every second. When our eyes met, I could see how shaken he was.

While we had been in Nemeth, Kara must have been brought before the Queen on the charge of murder, had been found guilty and was hanged. And after that, Mordred had fled from the dungeons, using sorcery. By now he must be on his way to join Morgana, surely blaming Arthur and Merlin, even though they hadn't even been there to help.

While the information was slowly sinking in, the Queen had stopped talking. Arthur, shaking his head once more, took her hand in his and pointed to the stretchers on which the dead were lying. Because we were a few steps behind the King, I could clearly see Gwen's face. The Hollow Queen did hurry over to the stretcher on which her brother's body was lying, but her face had remained expressionless for a moment too long, and when she did react, it looked forced, even for me.

I saw a strange expression cross over Arthur's face while he watched his wife collapsing beside Elyan, and the doubtful look in his eyes stayed, even while he walked over to join her.


	2. On

Only a few days after Elyan's burial (something I'd rather not remember) I had started to fall back into a rhythm I had established for myself back when I'd helped Gaius before, shortly after the disastrous Feast of Beltane. Gaius' rooms seemed quite crowded, now with three people eating and sleeping there, but I felt quite at home, even more than when I had my own room in the castle. Merlin had actually offered his own room to me, but I told him I would be content as long as I had a blanket and no one would set the room on fire while I slept and finally, he gave in.

The warlock was only too happy to leave some of the things he normally did to me, like running errands, buying things at the market together with the physician, and delivering his remedies to the people who needed them.

The knights kept ignoring me or even openly called me a liar and traitor, and all of them were on guard when I was close. While Merlin predicted this would cease after a while, I doubted it.

In the mornings, before starting his work for Arthur, Merlin took me to the woods to gather herbs, and there, out of earshot, he asked me about what I had done the previous year, how I had coped, what I knew about the things that had happened in Camelot while I was away. He was especially interested in my encounter with the Disir and asked me more than once what they had said to me. I was able to repeat every single word of the conversation – I had thought about their words so often I knew them by heart. When we weren't talking about my life in Camelot, we talked either about his magic, or he questioned me about the worlds I had been to before. Strangely enough, the world interesting him most was my birth world. He was fascinated beyond measure about it, just as much as I was about his magic.

There was one topic we carefully tiptoed around, though: The inevitable 'I have magic'-talk with Arthur. Whenever we came even remotely close to that, one of us started talking about something else entirely.

When I lay awake at night (either because I'd fallen asleep and had woken from another nightmare, or because I was afraid to sleep at all and risk dreaming about something bad), I wondered how long this life could continue.

I had a nagging feeling, a very strong, nasty one, that something was about to happen very soon.

Meanwhile, Arthur was negotiating with Odin about a truce. The King was tired of fighting and feared that, should Odin die at his hands, the feud between Odin's people and his own would continue for eternity. Odin seemed to gradually believe that too. Their proceedings were, as far as I heard, thought to be successful, and Merlin told us they slowly began to lay their hatred to rest.

* * *

 

Then, five days after our return from Nemeth, Arthur came to talk to the physician and Merlin, alone. I left the chamber to deliver the last phials of Gaius' newly-made remedies and when I returned, the King was gone and physician and warlock were in deep conversation about the Queen. I stood at the entrance without saying anything and listened: “... finally over, their will was no longer their own. They were slaves of the High Priestesses for eternity.”

Merlin, looking up from the book he had been thumbing through, saw me and gave me a tired smile. Gaius turned around and gave me a thoughtful look, but before he could say something, I decided to finally do what I came here for and actively change something: “There are three people who know what to do about Gwen's condition: Morgana, the Dochraid”, the physician shifted uneasily in his chair, and I guiltily remembered my promise not to tell him anything about what would happen in the future, “and me.”

While Merlin closed the book with an interested expression on his face, Gaius sighed, and then nodded towards me. I smiled thankfully at him, walked over to the table and sat down. Then I explained what would have to be done, all the while remembering that by Merlin not going to the Dochraid, Morgana would never attack them on the way to the lake, and hopefully, she wouldn't know at all Gwen wasn't her slave any more. This might be something we could use to our advantage.

* * *

 

While Merlin hurried off to talk to Arthur about what he'd “discovered in one of Gaius' old books”, I directed my steps towards Gwaine's chambers. I had rarely seen him since we'd come back and since I figured we'd all deal with Elyan's death differently, I had wanted to give him some space. But now I missed him; and I had a feeling he might be asked to accompany Merlin and Arthur on their quest, so I wanted to tell him as much as I could about it.

Reaching the knight's chamber, I raised my hand to knock, but then I heard he had a female “visitor”. And a very loud one at that. I stopped short for a moment and felt my cheeks burning – then I lowered my hand, which was shaking, and turned around.

I definitely needed a drink.

* * *

 

I reached the tavern and entered, my eyes darting to our usual table like on cue, resulting in a hollow, unbelievably sad feeling. It was empty, and always would be, after Elyan wasn't there any more. Someone would always be missing. Nevertheless, for old times sake, I sat down there and ordered some ale.

I was half finished with it when the door opened and Leon entered, swiftly making his way over to me. Sliding into the seat opposite of me, he gave me an uneasy smile and otherwise kept silent. I emptied my beaker hastily and rose, but Leon grabbed hold of my arm: “Sit”, he said, and then, “please.”

I sat back down again and looked at him, confused at what was going on.

The knight took his time, sipping his own drink slowly, and several times I thought he finally wanted to say something, but then obviously thought otherwise.

Just when I was on the verge of leaving, he murmured: “I should've warned you.”

“What?”, I asked, mystified.

“I should've warned you. About the Queen's suspicions.” He nervously took another big gulp of his ale while I stared at his face, which was full of regret and guilt, and then continued: “Not even for a second did I think you could be guilty. There was no reason why you should try to kill Arthur, and even if you had, there'd been a hundred more convenient ways to do it.”

I nodded and, when he stayed silent, asked: “Then why did you come to get me after all?”

He hesitated a moment and then answered, without looking at me, “Orders, I guess. They are so easy to follow and when something goes wrong, you can always blame someone else.” He snorted and gave me a bitter smile, “I told myself there was nothing I could do for you and so I did as I was asked.”

“And after that? I mean, after Guine- after the Queen revealed me to be a woman?”

Leon sighed: “I doubted my own judgement. I had been sure you weren't responsible for the attack on the King, but then again, you had lied to us for two years and I hadn't had a clue. I thought, if you had been unfaithful about that, you could've lied about other things, too.”

I have, I thought, my heart clenching at the thought, I still am.

“After you had escaped I was furious. I tried to catch you for days, turned the whole city upside down, questioned the guards, even suspected someone of us had freed you – until I finally realised I was really angry at myself, because I hadn't helped you in the first place.”

Neither one of us said something for a long time, both thinking about that day. Then, with a last swallow, Leon emptied his beaker and murmured: “Orders are one thing – but they should never come between friendship.”

I reached over the table and took his hand in mine, giving it a squeeze to show him I understood and appreciated his honesty. We smiled at one another, and for a moment it felt like everything was all right again.

A little while of surprisingly comfortable silence later, I ordered another ale and while I waited for the barmaid to return, I asked, keeping my voice as steady as I could: “So... Who's Gwaine's newest conquest?”

“She's been rescued a few days ago from some bandits, actually.”

“Bandits? What kind of bandits?” I felt my insides go cold.

“They raided small villages, plundered them, killed people, and took some of the women with them for their... private pleasures.”

I held my empty beaker with so much force my knuckles turned white: “What happened to the women?”

“They were rescued about a week ago by a Camelot patrol. We'd been trying to get at the bandits for a long time; they were a real nuisance. Now those who weren't killed then are here in the dungeons. Arthur wants to deal with them personally. Eira, that's Gwaine's newest girl, is one of those women who are here to testify against – “

Something must've happened with my face, because Leon stopped short and stared at me with wide eyes, shifting around uneasily.

Eira, I thought disbelievingly, the information slowly sinking in. The feeling was pretty similar to the one I got whenever someone mentioned Mordred's name. I tried to recall the faces of the other women I had been held prisoner together with, but I was absolutely sure that Eira had not been one of them.

I would've noticed her. For sure.

“Excuse me”, I said and rose so fast my chair tumbled over, gaining us the attention of all the people in the room, “I'm not feeling well.”

I heard Leon call after me, but didn't stop. I started to run as soon as I was out of the tavern, back to the citadel, as fast as I could move my legs, not paying much attention to the people who managed to only barely avoid being knocked down by me.

Eira.

Morgana's other spy.

 _The game_ , I thought, _is on!_


	3. One Step Ahead

Slowly, the door cracked open, just enough to allow a slender figure to enter the semi-dark chamber. The figure looked around, like he or she was trying to see where someone or something was hiding, then shrugged, and continued on.

The figure was, of course, Merlin, and because he was Merlin, he managed to stumble over one of Gaius' stools and, taking this item of furniture with him, he went down with a loud noise. He stopped dead and, cocking his head to the side and obviously listening intently, he waited for a few moments. When he heard nothing, he got back up, stumbling as he did so, and then moved on, toward the door that led to his own room. Merlin sighed in relieve when he'd reached it and tried to open it – but the door wouldn't move. He was just about to try again when he heard someone move behind him: “I wouldn't do that if I were you.”

The warlock turned round with a startled yell, and simultaneously to him shrieking like a girl, the fire in the fireplace burst into life.

“Merlin”, I sighed tiredly, “what if anyone but me had seen that?”

The warlock shrugged and gave me one of his wide grins: “I'm sure I could come up with a reasonable expla- what happened?”

The warlock rushed over to the bed, beside which I was sitting on a stool and on which Gaius lay, a bandage around his head.

“He'll be all right”, I reassured him, “he's sleeping now”, but gave him some time to examine his mentor himself (rather more expertly than I had done). When he had finished, he poured himself some water and sat down by the bed, too. I knew he'd been in the tavern with Percival and Leon, though without Gwaine, who had other things to do apparently, and he looked like it, groggy and a bit drunk. While he emptied his beaker, becoming soberer every minute, I told him about a certain remnant that had survived the Purge and was currently lurking around somewhere in his room, looking for someone whose magic it could have for a snack.

When I explained how the Gean Canach took people's magic away, his face paled exceedingly, especially since if I hadn't returned from a run for Gaius sooner than expected, I could've been too late. He narrowly escaped being attacked by the slug, but only because I had found Gaius on the floor, unconscious, and had checked the warlock's room immediately, only to find the disgusting, blackish, slimy thing sliding towards me. I had shut the door as fast as I could, tended to Gaius, and then waited for Merlin to return.

“But”, I finished, stifling a tired yawn, “this gives us a shot at Morgana.”

“How?”, Merlin asked incredulously.

“I have a plan”, I said, and couldn't hold back an excited grin. The familiar feeling of doing a tale-changer's work was as delightful as it was unexpected, since I had so gotten used to not being on top of anything and always realising what was going on only when it was too late. But now, finally, I was one step ahead of everyone else, and I would not let that chance pass by unused. Not when Camlann was approaching – and it was approaching fast.

* * *

 

I found Gwaine in the armoury, whetting his sword. Normally the familiar movement of his hands calmed me down, but now it made me even more nervous. I vaguely wondered why he was still awake at so late an hour, but I was mostly relieved I hadn't had to untangle him from the spy's arms.

I had tried to think of a way to tell Gwaine about Eira, but no matter how I tried it out in my head, trying to anticipate every possible way the conversation could go, I had no idea what he would say.

When I entered, he looked up at me, and then instantly back to his sword, obviously averting his eyes from me, which unnerved me as well, but there was no turning back now.

“Gwaine, I need to talk to you.”

He nodded.

“It's about Eira.” The knight raised his head and paused what he was doing, then stared impatiently at me when I hesitated.

“She's a spy for Morgana”, I burst out, and then immediately regretted it, since his face lost all of its colour and became even whiter than Merlin's had on the prospect of loosing his magic.

“Are you sure?”

I opened my mouth, but he immediately raised a hand, a bitter smile on his face, “Don't answer that.” He sighed and pushed an unruly strand of hair out of his face: “What do I need to tell her?”

“Merlin, you, and I are riding for the Valley of Fallen Kings. Tell her it's a favour for Merlin, and that you won't be long.”

Gwaine nodded, his expression still pained.

“Look, I'm... really sorry about this”, I murmured, earning an ungrateful look from the knight, who returned to whetting his sword rather forcefully.

“I really am, Gwaine”, I added, and then left, because I felt like I had betrayed him somehow. His expression haunted me for the rest of the evening and most of the night.

* * *

 

In the morning, when Merlin and I were just getting ready for our departure to the famous Valley, pandemonium broke out in the courtyard.

“Go”, I said and gave Merlin a thumbs-up, at which he frowned, before he hurried out of the room to go and find Arthur while I packed the last of the things we would need.

Shortly after the door to Gaius' chamber opened again, and Gwaine came in, his face ashen: “The garrison at Stowell has been attacked!”

I dropped the phial I had been holding and shattering on the floor, it spilled its blueish contents all over the place, smelling of a weird herbal mixture.

I tried to regain my breath. The attack on Stowell was how the war with Morgana started: She attacked when Merlin, or from her perspective, Emrys, was at his weakest. In answer to this attack, Arthur would ride to Camlann to stop his crazed sister, the ex-knight and their army. The sheer fact that I no matter what I did, Camlann was definitely happening, sent shivers down my spine.

“Have you given Eira the message?”, I asked with my voice shaking.

Gwaine's shoulders tensed, but he nodded.

“We need to hurry.”

* * *

 

“So you want me to leave Arthur when he will be needing me most?” Merlin, Gwaine and I were standing in the courtyard. While everywhere around us people were busy tending to wounded knights and townspeople who had escaped the attack on their city, the warlock and me had a heated discussion.

“I know I'm asking much, Merlin, but...”

He shook his head: “You don't. He doesn't. He'll think I have betrayed him. I'm supposed to be at his side, always. Right now they are preparing for a meeting at the table, and I should be there for him!”

Gwaine shifted his weight uneasily when at the other end of the courtyard, Leon appeared and began to make his way over to us.

Meanwhile Merlin was glaring at me, his usually pale face flushed: “He will think I'm betraying him! He'll think me a coward!”

“Arthur knows you're not”, Gwaine mumbled, while I tried my best not to grab Merlin's shoulders and shake him until he saw sense again: “If we don't go soon, we'll make her suspicious, and when she's suspicious, we won't be able to get her. Merlin, please! Think! We need to give Arthur his best chance, and this might be it!”

“I know you're right”, Merlin finally managed, “but he won't understand it.”

“We'll come back in time”, I told him without really thinking about it.

“Can you promise me that?”

I felt tears well in my eyes when I shook my head and the warlock gave me a smile that almost tore my heart in two.

* * *

 

Leon had been side-tracked by some refugees on his way to us, but I knew he saw us leaving the courtyard with three of the fastest horses the stable could offer. I could almost feel his stare of disbelief following us until we were well out of sight.


	4. Only One Alternative

We didn't talk much on our way to the valley. Merlin was obviously thinking about Arthur and the Round Table, where about now they should reach the conclusion that they didn't want to wait till Morgana brought the fight to the Citadel itself. I tried to imagine the room without Gwaine at the table and Merlin standing behind Arthur and failed.

Gwaine, too, was unusually quiet. Maybe he was hoping I'd been wrong about Eira, but somehow I doubted that. More than once he looked back to me, and though I was good at reading his expressions, the current ones didn't tell me anything, except that something was not all right between us.

When we finally reached the cave in the valley, without having been intercepted by any bandits, I was relieved at first, but then the whole immensity of our endeavour here came back to me. I unfastened my bag from the saddle and felt it was staring at me with unforgiving eyes. This isn't a good idea, it seemed to tell me, it's not going to work... I grabbed it tighter and decided not to listen.

“So... I'll be going then”, Gwaine said indecisively and shifted around uneasily.

“Thank you for helping.” I walked over to him and hugged him, sure that it looked as awkward as it felt.

“Look after yourself”, I murmured and stepped back quickly without waiting for an answer.

Gwaine grasped Merlin's arm. The warlock gave him a sad smile: “You should get going, Arthur will need you by his side.” Gwaine nodded, and then turned to me once more, offering his sword: “You might need this.”

“Thanks.”

“You know to use the sharp end, right?”

I snorted and for a moment it felt like everything was back to normal. But then Gwaine mounted his horse, grabbed the reins of the other two horses and was ready for leaving.

“Don't forget about the path”, I remembered him and he nodded, looked hard at me for a moment and then turned around to head back for Camelot.

I stared after him with a strange feeling in my stomach.

“Are you sure you want to come with me?”, Merlin asked sympathetically and laid a hand on my shoulder in strange resemblance to Gaius.

“You couldn't stop me if you tried”, I answered earnestly. “This was my plan, and if it goes wrong I don't want you to face her alone. And if we succeed... she'll have two people to blame and might come after me first.”

I took the bag and gestured to the cave entrance: “See you inside.”

Merlin nodded and entered. I gave him a few minutes and then followed.

* * *

 

The entrance led to a small tunnel which became narrower with every metre. Soon I was crawling through the dark, fighting a slight feeling of claustrophobia. The good thing about the tight tunnel was that I couldn't loose my way. The bad thing was that I was wet through within a few minutes because somewhere around here must be water coming through.

After a few minutes crawl, I could see the light of Merlin's torch flickering ahead and heard voices. Morgana had come. She had taken the bait.

Slowly, deliberately, I pulled my bag closer and opened the buckles to take the small, wooden box out. My fingers were shaking badly when I took off the lid. The slug slowly slid out of it, moving down the tunnel with surprising speed, in the direction of the voices on sure instinct. I reminded myself that there had been only one alternative to this, and that included murder. There was no turning back now.

I followed the disgusting thing, trying not to breathe in too deeply, because its trail of slime was smelling awfully bad.

When it reached the mound of the tunnel, I yelled: “NOW!” and jumped out after it, my sword drawn.

As predicted, Morgana spun around in surprise. On seeing me, she appeared baffled for a moment, before a slow, evil smile spread on her face which did not reach her eyes: “Look at that! Its Handsome's little friend. Weren't you a knight last time I saw you?”

She moved over slowly, taking her time. I saw Merlin leaning against a wall in such an uncomfortable, unnatural position I was pretty sure her magic was holding him there. I looked around, carefully, so she didn't notice anything was amiss, and tried to find the slug, but I couldn't see it. Hopefully it was still close to the tunnel, so Morgana was between it and Merlin, and if not, Merlin's magic should be strong enough to get away from it if need be. Or so I hoped.

“Things didn't work out the way I planned.”

“Looks like it”, she mused, laughing now while she looked me up and down. “Well, at least you won't have to suffer much longer... Accompanying our precious Merlin over there wasn't a good idea after all. I have some pretty nice things planned for the two of you when I get back. You know”, closer, ever closer, and still no sign of our brown, disgusting, slimy friend, “we're expecting Arthur to act very soon... I'm sure you know about it already. My dear brother is so easily predicted. And when all's said and done I'll come back for you and then - “

Suddenly something was on her face, her yell of surprise was muffled by the Gean Canach's body. Merlin slid down the wall, a look of horror on his face. I felt like the cave's temperature dropped by a few degrees, then got searing hot, then cold again, and all the way Morgana stumbled closer to me, tearing at the thing covering her face, screams of terror and anger barely audible. Then the slug fell down and she made only one more step before hunching over and dropping to the floor like all her strength had left her. It was the most terrible thing I had ever seen, and while I watched the woman on the floor shaking uncontrollably, screaming and crying at the same time, a lot of the hate for her I had so carefully kindled in the last years dissolved. Then I remembered Elyan's still face and knew this to be the right thing. It had been necessary.

* * *

 

Merlin was the first to move. He gestured toward the cave entrance: “We'll need that box, Will.” I nodded, only to happy to be able to do something, and crawled back into the tunnel to retrieve box and lid.

When I came back, Merlin had taken off his jacket and laid it around Morgana's shoulders, which were still shaking. He was kneeling beside her and talked to her, in such a low tone that I didn't catch a word, while he looked around anxiously for the slug. I found it close to the tunnel entrance and managed to lock it back up into the box.

“We need to go”, the warlock commanded.

Morgana stared at him in hate and disgust: “You will pay for this, Emrys”, she said and though it was surely meant as a threat, it came out faltering and wavering.

Before I could say anything, Merlin just shrugged, grabbed Morgana's elbow and pulled her up:

“We'll see. Go on, Will, lead the way.”


	5. A Privilege

We slowly made our way back to Camelot. Merlin wouldn't let me bind Morgana's hands, so he had to keep his eyes on her the whole time, but he didn't seem to mind.  
Despite everything Morgana had done to him, despite everything she had planned, he still cared for her. I was surprised to see that, because I always thought he was just as illiberal against the sorceress as the knights and most inhabitants of Camelot were – well, maybe Arthur was an exception. He always tried to reason with Morgana, but she was his sister after all and though he hadn't known she was his by blood, he had always regarded her as someone important and close to him, and now she was the only family left he'd got, except for Gwen. I wondered if Merlin's gentleness with Morgana had something to do with her importance to Arthur.

Still, I was wary, and Morgana glaring at Merlin whenever she had the chance with eyes full of anger and hurt and something resembling regret wasn't helping with that. Now that Arthur and the knights were on their way to Camlann, I had flashes of all the things that were meant to happen – including, despite having Morgana captured, images of Gwaine dying.

* * *

 

On our way to the cave we had had the good fortune not to run into bandits. On our way back we weren't so lucky. To cut a long story short, we managed to escape without serious injuries and left behind a group of somewhat bloody (thanks to Gwaine's sword), bruised (Morgana wasn't as helpless without magic as I would have thought) and singed (Merlin had almost gotten us all killed by using fire as his weapon of choice) bandits and made it back to Camelot – but we lost a lot of time.

* * *

 

When we reached the city, the sun was already rising again and the streets were unusually empty without the familiar red-caped men. The citadel was on limited guard by the older or wounded knights who couldn't accompany their King. If Mordred chose to take another road, they could take Camelot easily, but even without Morgana returning I doubted he would change his plan. After what happened to Kara, he was just as keen on revenge as Morgana was. Had been. Should be now. Whatever.

While we walked across the courtyard, I watched Morgana closely. Her face had paled even more than before, and I saw a huge variety of feelings in her eyes. I doubt someone could understand what she might have been thinking then.  
Evil isn't born, it's made. Where had I gotten that quote from? I couldn't remember.

We brought Morgana to the cells. Merlin did all the talking, his presence keeping the guards from doing harm to the now powerless woman. He told them we had taken Morgana prisoner on Arthur's order, and they nodded after a while and let us through. Being the manservant of the King apparently had its upsides.  
We happened to cross Sir Morholt on our way to the dungeons, a very reliable, sensible, already elderly man who had been knighted at the same time as me, and Merlin decided to trust him to look out for Morgana so that no harm could come to her. Morholt was the only person he confided in about taking Morgana's power away, too.

Merlin wouldn't leave the dungeons before he made sure Morgana was as comfortable as she could be, bringing her food and drink and an extra blanket. When we left, I knew he left with an unsatisfied feeling, because that was the same one I had.

* * *

 

Merlin was already on his way to the main entrance again when I caught his arm and stopped him: “We can't, Merlin.”

“What?”

“We need to rest first.”

“There's no time for that, Will! They'll need us!”

I sighed: “I'm just as keen as you are to join up with Arthur and the others, believe me, but we will be no help when we're not able to hold a sword or think clearly. We will need a few hours of rest, you know this just as well as I do.”

Merlin sighed and nodded. We hurried up the stairs to Gaius' chamber.  
The moment my head touched the pillow, I fell asleep out of sheer exhaustion.

* * *

 

“Where are you going, Merlin?”

I was confused when the warlock didn't turn for the stables, but headed straight for the exit of the courtyard instead.

“We'll never catch up to them in time when we make our way at the same speed as they do, and besides all the horses are gone. I have another idea, but we'll have to leave town first.”

I followed him, jogging down the empty streets, with a very bad feeling about the whole idea thing.  
We left through one of the little exits in the outer wall for which Merlin had a key and made our way through the trees nearby as fast as possible.

When I heard Merlin take a deep breath and then roar out familiar words, I saw my bad vibe concerning his idea confirmed: “O drakon, e male so ftengometta tesd'hup'anankes!”

Mere minutes later we reached the clearing close to Camelot which I had seen so many times in the show, but never in reality, and it was far bigger than I imagined it.

A few minutes passed. Then there was a roaring of pines, the wind moaned and Kilgharrah simply was there, when before he had not.

* * *

 

I had seen so many things by now, but the appearance of the dragon took me by surprise nonetheless. He was gigantic. With every beat of his wings the trees bent and when he landed, the ground shook. When he breathed in, you could feel the air move and – a shiver went down my spine – there was a faint but distinctive heartbeat, much slower than average. I could actually hear the dragon's heart beating.  
My wonder turned into terror when the dragon lowered his big head and totally ignored Merlin by instead staring straight at me with his golden eyes. I couldn't help but look back at him, my own heart beating fast, trembling like a leaf in the wind. It was like he could see right through me and was entirely sure he had every right to do so: Everything I did, everything I was going to do, every thing that was me was for him to see and, even more importantly, for him to judge. I felt myself cower beneath his glare, so intelligent, knowing, so...

When the dragon spoke, his voice was every bit as tremendous as I had imagined: “It's been a long time since I met one of your kind, tale-changer.”

“You know about us?”, I exclaimed in surprise, and then wasn't sure if I was allowed to speak. If Kligharrah wanted, he could crush me with a simple flick of his mighty claws.

But to my immense surprise, the dragon bowed his head with something I felt was a smile: “I know many things, and I have met people like you more often than you would imagine.”

Now that I was really looking, I could see that the dragon was old. Ancient. And there was a certain sadness around him, something I had met with before: The dragon was going to die. Soon.

“Though you”, he continued after a moment's thought, “are not like the others. You are different.”

“Why?”, Merlin asked, speaking for the first time. He looked back and forth between us, our haste momentarily forgotten.

“How long have you been here, changer?”

“Longer than I was supposed to”, I admitted, “I have been here for more than three years now.”  
It felt like eternity, but compared to the dragon's age it was the mere blink of an eye.

The dragon nodded and there was a deep rumbling in his throat, like he was humming in thought.

“I see you have been warned before about the threat you are posing to this world.” It wasn't an accusation, just an observation.

“I had hoped they were mistaken”, I murmured and voices in my head were laughing: Nothing! Unravelling!

“They were not, though they certainly didn't understand the meaning of what you do.”

“I hoped it to be otherwise... – I can't leave now.” My voice was quivering and I looked away from the great dragon's head hovering above me.

“And that is not what I'm asking. I know what it is you do, and it has been done before, and it will be done again. Not always is the outcome as we had hoped. Many times before danger hasn't been averted and our world still continued to exist. Even while we speak, the story is in flux because of your presence. There is danger in that, but there is also hope.” He paused to take a deep breath before he continued: “But when you have done what you set out to do, you will have to leave. As long as you possess the power to change the story, to change even fate, you can't remain here or our world really will unravel.”

I nodded slowly. I understood.

Merlin stepped forward: “Kilgharrah. I would not have summoned you if there was any other choice. I have one last favour to ask.”

* * *

 

The flight on the dragon was one of the most unpleasant experiences in all my life. One of Kligharrah's wings wasn't working properly, and his flight was lopsided. I was in constant fear of falling or being thrown off, it was cold, and the ground was very, very, very far down below. Meanwhile Merlin was all amazement and excitement, like he had never done this before. While I was clinging on to the dragon-scale which looked most trustworthy, shivering in the ice-cold wind, Merlin was whooping in joy, despite the awkward heeling.  
Then finally, after what seemed to have been hours, the dragon landed in another clearing and Merlin and I climbed down from his back.

I murmured my thanks, knowing that having been allowed to be carried by the dragon was a privilege, but I still felt like I should kneel down and kiss the ground simply for not moving beneath me.

The dragon's piercing gaze was again upon me, and so I stood with wobbly knees and looked back at him when he suddenly asked, sounding genuinely interested: “What is your name?”

I was so surprised I accidentally told him my birth-name: “Zoe.”

Merlin looked at me with his eyes wide open.

This time the dragon smiled widely: “How fitting”, he said in amusement, and then his face became solemn again: “I know it won't be easy for you to leave, but as I said: As long as you possess a tale-changer's power, you can't remain here.” There was another awkward pause I didn't know what to make of, and then the dragon added, with his head bowed slightly, “Thank you.”

I bowed, too, still trembling, not only because of the flight.

The golden eyes of the dragon shifted to Merlin, and his expression softened even more: “It has been a privilege to have known you, young warlock – the story we have been a part of will live long in the minds of men.”

Merlin's eyes were full of tears as he nodded, but he said nothing.

We both stared after the dragon as he flew off, our minds full of an overwhelming feeling of loss and endings that were coming closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was in need for a name and I chose Sir Morholt, who was one of the Knights of the Round Table in one of the classic Arthur-stories. He has never appeared in the series (and I think he should be dead by the time of Camlann, but well, as I said, I just needed a name... ^^)
> 
> For all those who don't know – the dragon-language is in fact ancient Greek: Both Merlin and Kilgharrah know the meaning of our changer's name, as Zoe is derived from the ancient Greek word ζωή, meaning “life”, also interpreted as “soul”. Philosophers like Sokrates or Platon have their own interpretations of what “Zoe” should be like, these interpretations include not only to live, but live a good life and how especially destiny, both in good and bad forms, is connected to life. Its all very interesting and also on Wikipedia, so I won't go into detail.


	6. Be it Life or Death...

This time it was me who was the first to move. The dragon had brought us as close to the battlefield as he could, but we were still quite a long way off.

“Come on”, I said, “we'll need to hurry now.”

The warlock nodded, wiped his face with his sleeve and then began running. I knew that by moving this fast, we might be exhausted when we reached the others, but by now I was just as anxious to keep moving as Merlin was, and so I followed him at the same speed.

After a few minutes, the warlock's sensible side kicked in and he slowed down enough so that I was able to catch up with him. We continued our way like this: Running a few hundred metres, walking a few hundred metres, then running again. It was pretty obvious that without the rest I had forced us to take yesterday, we wouldn't have made it. Even so, the sun had long since gone down when we came close to Camlann. The battle must've well begun by now.

In the semi-darkness (the moon was full, but it's light only shone palely through the thick foliage above our heads) we both stumbled over roots and bushes and fallen branches time and time again, until finally Merlin not only stumbled, but fell. I hurried back to help him up again and then decided I needed a moment to catch my breath: “I'll just need a minute, Merlin”, I panted and he nodded.

“Do you know where Arthur will be in the melee?”, he asked while we were still crouching on the ground, both sweaty and panting.

“No, I don't.”

“Then we'll better split up”, he suggested, “so we can cover more ground.”

I nodded, but gave him a wary look all the same: “What do you think you'll do?”

“I'll think of something”, he said defensively and rose: “Come on.”

* * *

 

Even from afar we could hear the clanging of sword on sword and men screaming and roaring, but before we could actually see any fighting, we happened to run into a stray band of black-clad Saxons. Before I could even get out my sword, Merlin had made an almost casual flick of his hand and the men flew aside like they were light as feathers. None of them got up again.  
I had to suppress a shiver and reminded myself that if they had had the chance, they would have killed us without so much as a second thought. Or so I hoped.

We hurried on.

Now there were tents visible in the distance, the banner of Camelot, blowing in the wind, on their tops.  
This was where Gaius must be, and Gwen. And many wounded men, possibly one of my friends. Or all of them. Or maybe they were dead already because I had changed things.

Something must have been going on with my face, because after a look at me Merlin began: “Will, maybe...”

“That's not what I came her for”, I cut him off and willed my voice to sound steady and not like I really longed to go and help the physician, or protect the Queen, or go looking for my friends.

Merlin simply nodded.

A few more steps, and we could see the mess we were in. Bodies were scattered on the ground like broken dolls, dead people of both sides, but every one who was wearing a dragon on his chest could be someone I knew, a friend I lost. Every body of a Camelot knight was one man less to fight off the Saxons. Outnumbered 5 to 1 when the battle began – what were the odds by now?  
An overwhelming fear of being too late began clutching my heart with cold fingers.

The fighting had moved from where it presumably began towards the tents and was raging hotly close by, near a sheer cliff which was rising there.

“Merlin – if you were Arthur, where would you go?” I continued on without waiting for an answer because I felt it was obvious: “He would go look for Mordred, wouldn't he? And Mordred will be where the battle is thickest.”

Merlin nodded, though he looked troubled.

“What is it?”, I asked.

The warlock shook his head: “I'm not sure. It's just a feeling I have. Something feels wrong.”

A big shadow passed overhead. On first glance, I mistook her to be Kilgharrah, because her flight was lopsided, too, but she was far too small, and white, and, seemingly, angry.

“Aithusa!”, Merlin called out in surprise. The dragon passed us and flew on to where the battle was raging thickest, presumably the place where Arthur was. A second before it actually happened I knew what was going on and closed my eyes in horror, so I only heard a roar and crackling I knew to be the dragon breathing fire.

“No!”, Merlin yelled desperately, starting to run again, “no!”

Please let this not be where Arthur is, I pleaded silently, staring at where flames were burning high, and followed the warlock. While I was wholly concentrated on the thought how many people Aithusa's burst of fire might have hit and if Arthur was one of them, I stopped paying attention to my surroundings and it was by sheer luck that I saw something move in the corner of my eye and jumped to the left side, or otherwise a Saxon's sword would have hit me. I brought up my own blade to block his next hit, sidestepped again, parried another blow and then actually landed my own, finishing the Saxon off.

When I turned round again, Merlin was out of sight.

* * *

 

Being alone on a battlefield is a horrible experience. Never before had I been in so big a battle. I had to look out for attackers from every side at the same time while constantly staying in motion.  
I realised then that splitting up, as Merlin and my first plan had been, was a terrible idea, not resulting in us covering more ground but to endanger both of our lives even more. Only now there was nothing left I could do but keep moving and looking over my shoulder every few steps, heading for the cliffs which I could see in the distance but still seemed a long way off. I hoped to get stone against my back so I was at least protected from someone attacking from behind.

All the while I also kept looking up to the sky – but Aithusa had vanished. Hopefully this was Merlin's doing and no more people would be killed in such a horrible way.

Finally, I reached the cliff and, leaning against the cold stone, momentarily hidden in a niche, I took a deep breath, my knees trembling from the effort of running for such a long time and also because by now fear had kicked in and was fighting down the adrenaline which had formerly rushed in my veins.  
While I tried to figure out what to do next, someone walked past me without noticing, someone who had dark hair, a boyish face, an evil smile of satisfaction on his lips and his sword drawn.

It was Mordred, and he looked like he had found who he was looking for.


	7. ... it ends here

It was Mordred, and he looked like he had found who he was looking for.

* * *

 

It would've been so easy back then. So easy to just rush out of the niche and thrust my sword into Mordred, to kill him just like that, without a final showdown, drama, and death. But something held me back. Be it that I had never before killed anyone in cold blood instead of in defence of my own life, be it, that I was tired, or stunned, or distracted, or that now that the end was so close I wanted to savour the moment – or maybe keep the end from happening at all.  
To this day, I don't know what it was, but sadly, I hesitated, and that's a fact, and because of this, a life was lost.

* * *

 

When I finally emerged from the niche, Mordred was already twenty metres away from the cliff and dangerously close to his target: Before him, on the ground, I saw a figure spread out motionless, just like so many other bodies I had seen that day already. But this broken doll was different, for it was King Arthur himself.

“Mordred!”, I roared, anger boiling up inside of me, hot and searing, and desperate, for the King wasn't moving and might, for all that I knew, be dead already. But if he was, and I had again failed, the least thing I could do was to protect his body and keep the former knight at bay. I stopped caring about not being a killer and rushed onwards, my sword raised high. I was still yelling, unintelligible words by now, and finally, finally, Mordred turned around, his face a mask of fury at being interrupted so close to his chosen arch-enemy.

Then I saw the Arthur-doll moving in the corner of my eye and new hope flooded in: He was alive.

I gave Mordred no chance to look around and see that the King was not dead.  
We met half-way. Our swords crashing into one another produced a strange, ringing tone and I reminded myself that getting cut by this weapon would be a death-sentence.  
Within a few moments it became obvious that I was no real match for Mordred. He was taller than I was, he had more weight and strength and considerably more energy left. He was also furious, giving him extra strength, and I kept waiting for his eyes to flash golden, adding magic to his overpowering fighting abilities. I lost more and more ground with every hit of his I narrowly managed to block. He was attacking me mercilessly, driving me backwards, without so much as a twitch on his face.  
I wasn't fighting for Arthur any more, I was fighting for my own life, desperately holding on to what I knew I must give up soon enough. But not without proper goodbyes, not this time, not again, I swore to myself, and made another step back.  
A vicious smile of triumph spread over Mordred's face.  
I slammed into the cliff's sheer stone wall to which Mordred had driven me and pain spread through my entire body. All the air was knocked out of me, and for a moment I only saw blackness, my head spinning. I doubled over and Mordred's blade collided with the wall above me and he staggered back a few steps, cursing loudly while already yanking up his sword again, ready to run me through with it this time.  
I tried to raise my own sword, but found that my right arm was left numb from slamming into the cliff. There was nothing left I could do but wait for him to strike.  
I pressed my eyes shut, clenching my teeth so as to not let out a scream. He wasn't worth that.

One would expect us to be the nameless soldier who saves a King's life, by mere accident seemingly. But it's not as simple as that. It never is. Sometimes it's the changer who needs saving, and though most times there's no one there to notice, every once in a while a changer has a little bit of luck.

When I heard the sound of metal meeting metal, accompanied by an unusual screeching I couldn't quite place, I opened my eyes wide and gasped, first in surprise, then in horror as I watched Arthur and Mordred face each other. It was like everything I had been working against now came to pass, and I was struck with how much I knew this to be wrong. I managed to get up to my feet, my arm still numb, but knew I couldn't step in between them any more as they circled each other in a deadly dance. They must have done this so many times before in training, but now, they were looking for an opening to kill.  
I felt myself trembling violently, silently pleading for someone, anyone, to help.

“It doesn't have to be like this”, Arthur said, his face carefully blank of any expression.

“Oh, it does”, Mordred answered, “you brought this on yourself and gave me no choice!” - and with the last syllable he attacked.

It was over in a minute: Mordred slowly fell back, his face no longer a mask of anger and hate, but wearing the expression of a boy again, disappointed, startled, even hurt. Mordred fell – but Arthur remained standing, staring down at his former friend.

I couldn't suppress a sob of relief: It was finally over.  
Camlann's prophecy had been averted. Arthur was still alive.  
Alive.

Arthur swung around, his eyes narrowing: “Will, what – “

“Look out!”, I screamed in terror and jumped forward, cannoning into him, in a desperate attempt to get Arthur out of the way. Wherever the Saxon had come from, determined to avenge his fallen leader, he was fast, and I saw him just in time.

Both Arthur and I fell to the ground heavily. Unsteadily, I tried to get up, the numbness in my right arm morphing into a searing pain – I knew the Saxon might already be upon us with his sword at the ready.


	8. Forged in a Dragon's breath

Then there was a blinding, white light, a blast, accompanied by a strange sound – much like a bell being struck, but somehow muffled – and I saw the Saxon being blown backwards with so much force I could hear bones shattering when he struck the ground.  
Baffled, I stared at the obviously dead man, but then, like my eyes were drawn towards it, I looked to where the blast had come from. Out of the light, which was quickly fading, but still shining almost too bright to bear, a figure stepped, hurrying over to us: It was old-Merlin, using a staff for support, moving like an 80-year-old, but with eyes too alert for so ancient a man. Part of his beard was singed, and his red garment was burned away in places. Otherwise, he seemed to be okay. Apart from his worried expression, that is.

“Will! What happened? Where – Arthur!”

Merlin rushed past me and knelt down beside his King who had, as I now noticed, not moved since I had knocked him to the ground. Now worried myself, I turned around, too, and immediately saw that something might have gone wrong after all.

There was a deep, gaping hole in Arthur's chain mail and blood seeping out of a wound in his side. The King's face was pale and his breathing loud and laboured.  
His wound matched the one he died from in the original story-line.

“No, no, no”, I whispered soundlessly and managed to get back up while Merlin carefully examined his friend's wound, his face getting more worried every second.

I staggered over to where Mordred had fallen. I needed to know if Arthur had been wounded by him, or if he had been hit by someone else before he attacked Morgana's accomplice, though I was pretty sure that he had been unscathed before they fought, apart from having been knocked out before.

A thought hit me and I stumbled: If Arthur had been wounded while saving me, it would be my fault if he died...

I reached Mordred's body and knelt down beside it. His sword was wedged underneath him and I had to tore at the hilt with my weaker left arm repeatedly until it finally came loose. While I pulled it out from under the body, I held my breath, hoping for a miracle.  
My hands were shaking badly when I surveyed it. A smile of disbelief tugged at my mouth: The blade was intact.  
Letting the sword fall from my grip carelessly, I returned to Merlin and the King. While I had been busy looking for Mordred's sword, Merlin had changed back again into his normal, gangly, young self.

The warlock looked at me with an unreadable expression: “I can't heal him. I've tried.”

“I know”, I said, and his face got even paler than before because he apprehended I was about to tell him we had failed.  
I reached over Arthur and took Merlin's cold hand in mine: “Something has changed”, I told him in a soothing voice, “there's hope for Arthur, believe me. This is not what happened originally.”

“Tell me what to do!”, Merlin pleaded, and squeezed my hand.

“Mordred's sword has been forged in a dragon's breath.”

“Aithusa.”

“I'm afraid so. You know how deadly such a weapon can be: No one can survive its touch. But I know there's still time enough to save Arthur if you move quickly now and don't wait any longer than necessary.”

“Where do I have to go?”

“The Sidhe possess the magic that is strong enough to help Arthur. In the midst of Avalon there is an ancient isle”, I knew Gaius' words by heart, having thought about them so often in the last few days, “that is the source of their power. You must take him there.”

Before I could say more, Arthur moved and opened his eyes slowly. His hand moved toward the wound, and Merlin caught it halfway and gave it a careful squeeze, smiling at his friend: “Arthur.”

The King returned the smile wearily, then his gaze suddenly steadied on me, and his eyes went wide: “I hit you! I wasn't sure but – I did hit you!”

“What?”, I asked incredulously, but even while I did so, I looked down and realized that my right sleeve was torn and dark with blood. While I'd dragged Arthur down to the ground with me, he must have cut me with his sword, or I had managed to fall onto it, or something like that – I hadn't noticed it until now because my arm had been numb after slamming into the cliff's wall. The thought of having been hurt had never occurred to me until then.

That was the moment when everything clicked into place.

“It's just a scratch”, I assured Arthur and smiled at him widely. While I rose, I said: “I'll go and get some horses, Merlin.” I saw knights moving around in the distance and added: “Maybe it would be a good idea to go somewhere else.” I gave him a meaningful look. “I'll find you.”

“Will –“

“I won't be long.”

* * *

 

In the aftermath of a battle, many things can get lost very easily, and no one seemed to be in the least interested in someone leading two horses over the battlefield toward the nearby wood. Most of the knights were either helping wounded friends or retrieved bodies and brought them back to the tents.

There was an eerie silence hanging over Camlann, the only sound that occasionally broke it was the cawing of crows. The birds had come to feast.

I averted my eyes from the bodies and concentrated on appearing inconspicuous.

It was of the utmost importance for Arthur to start off for Avalon as soon as possible, and I didn't want to loose a second of his time.

* * *

 

Merlin had left a pretty obvious trail in the wood, and it wasn't hard finding them. I left the two horses when the under-brushes became too thick and continued on. Then I heard them talking and stopped abruptly:

“Merlin.”  
“Don't move around too much.”  
Arthur gasped in pain: “My side!”  
“I'm so sorry”, Merlin said in a choking voice, “I thought I'd defied the prophecy. I thought we would be in time.”  
“What are you talking about?”, Arthur asked, sounding weak and confused.  
“I defeated the Saxons. The dragon. And yet... and yet I knew it was Mordred that I must stop.”

I decided that I should wait until they were finished – this was a talk they needed to have time for. While I listened to Merlin confess being a warlock, I cried silent tears.  
The pain in my arm steadily grew.

* * *

 

Things had changed.  
Morgana was in Camelot, unaware that Mordred was dead, and she would not be able to intercept Arthur and Merlin on their way to Avalon. I had chosen two horses that I knew to be fast, sure-footed and reliable, and I had told Merlin where to go. I knew that we had a few more hours compared to the original story-line, and that Arthur might have more time anyway because there was no damn sword-point embedded in his chest.

There was still no guarantee that they would make it – but I knew now that Gwaine had been right. It wasn't me who changed anyone's destiny – I just gave them a chance, and I was sure Merlin and Arthur would use it.

* * *

 

Half an hour later they were on their way. Arthur had asked about Gwen, and wanted to be taken back to Camelot. Merlin explained there was no time, and I added that if he wanted to see his Queen again there was only this one way. I don't know why he chose to believe me and Merlin, but he did. I guess he was desperate and knew that we were right. Still, they weren't talking to each other when they took off, and Arthur kept staring at Merlin warily.

But I was pretty sure Merlin would make him see sense, and even if not, I had an ace up my sleeve to help the King along.

I watched them until they were out of sight and then turned back toward the battlefield and the tents. I had a Royal Seal and a message to convey to the Queen.


	9. Guinevere Pendragon

I took a deep breath and entered the tent. The Queen had her back to me and noticed my presence only when I coughed. Even though it wasn't a very loud sound, she jumped.

“I'm sorry to disturb you, your Majesty”, I said and made a bow (even though I do know how to curtsey there are habits you can't get rid off easily).

“I know its not my place to do so, but...”

“William”, she said, silencing me. Guinevere cleared her throat, shifted around uneasily and then suggested: “Maybe we could go outside and talk there.”

I nodded, mystified, and waited for her to leave first.

The morning air was warm, although stars were still twinkling overhead. I looked up at the sky, taking a deep breath, trying to memorise the way they blinked.  
I knew some of the constellations, but Gaius had never come round to teach me all of their names, and now he never would.

“What happened to your arm?”, the Queen asked.

I shrugged, winced, and answered: “It's nothing, really. I wasn't as careful as I should have been. I've been wondering – “ Again she interrupted me.

“I am so terribly sorry for what I did to you”, she blurted out.

I blinked in irritation, and the speech I had so carefully arranged slipped from my mind entirely while I tried to think of something to say.

As I kept silent, she continued on, obviously feeling some more explaining was needed: “If I had been in my right mind, I would never have done this. I would never have done any of the things I did...” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment before she continued: “Gaius has told me some of the things that happened to you.”

I sighed and felt the ghost of a smile appear on my face – telling Gaius to keep things a secret certainly worked better for Merlin than it did for me. Then again, Guinevere sure was persuasive and, after all, the Queen.

“I don't think I can ever make it up to you, or any of the people I've hurt, really, but, for what it's worth: I am sorry.”

I nodded, unsure what I was supposed to say about that. We walked on for a few more metres until the Queen stopped again: “Leon told me you were with Elyan when he died.”

I nodded with a lump in my throat. Gwen grabbed my hand with tears in her eyes, asking anxiously: “Do you think he was in much pain?”

“I don't think so, no”, I lied, shutting out the memory of how terribly afraid Elyan had looked when he had died, and saw relief light up the Queen's face.

“I thank you”, she said, “if there is anything I can do for you, just tell me.”

“Actually”, I answered and set down in the grass, trying not to admit to myself that I badly needed the rest, “there is something. I need you to listen to a story.”

* * *

 

“I'm not sure I really understand all of what you've told me.”

“It is rather complicated”, I admitted, giving Guinevere a tired smile and ignored my spinning head as much as I could, “and this is a shortened account. Gaius can tell you everything in much more detail, if you want to.” She opened her mouth to ask why, but I gave her no chance and continued: “The important thing is this: Whatever happens when Arthur and Merlin are back, Merlin is no threat to the Kingdom or either of you two. In fact, he has saved your lives more times than he or I or anyone could count. He has always done his best to keep you all save, and he will continue to do so to the day he dies. But Arthur will have difficulties to get used to the idea that not all magic is evil. Accepting his closest friend actually is a sorcerer will be even harder.”

“I understand now”, Gwen said, “you think I can help them both.”

“Just make sure you back the right side up.”

“I will.”

We were silent for a few minutes and watched the horizon brightening up. A new day was dawning. It was reassuring to imagine that whatever had happened last night, the world kept on turning.  
For now, at least.

“There is something else I want you to think about.”

“Go on?”

“I know Morgana has done terrible things to you and Arthur and so many people. I know she has changed a lot since you were friends, but... I believe there's still hope for her. She's not entirely bad” I thought of the way she treated Aithusa, and how important Mordred's friendship and loyalty had been for her, “and now that her magic is gone she will need protection. I know it's a lot to ask of you, and she won't make it easy, but I believe if anyone can help her, it is you.”

She sighed deeply and then nodded hesitantly: “I will try.”

“That's all I'm asking for.”

I rose and made a step, staggered, and almost fell.  
Things were progressing faster than I had expected. I would have to hurry.

Gwen rose abruptly, caught my arm and steadied me: “I'll bring you to Gaius'.”

“No”, I said, waited for the dizziness to pass and withdrew my arm from her grip, “not yet. I'll be there soon enough.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, as sure as anyone can be. I've been wondering...”

“Yes?”

“Nothing”, I answered and shook my head fiercely in an attempt to clear it, “I've stolen away too much of your time already.”

I pulled the Royal Seal out of my pocket and gave it to the Queen: “Arthur wanted you to have this. He wanted to know this in the right hands.”

“He will come back, though, won't he?”, she asked, her face pale and tired.

“He will. They both will. I'm sure of it.”

She nodded, looking down upon the Seal.

“It has been an honour, Guinevere Pendragon”, I said and the Queen looked up in surprise. “Thank you for believing me.”

She smiled vaguely: “No one could make a story like this up.”

“I suppose not”, I said, turned around, and walked away. I needed to find Gwaine.


	10. Failing

When I woke up, I tried to open my eyes and failed.  
I tried again and failed again. Then I found that I couldn't move any other part of my body, either. My breathing quickened, but nothing else happened. I could smell sweat, metal and, overwhelming above everything else, blood, so I figured I was still on the battlefield. Then I became aware of a burning pain in my right arm, shoulder and side that became worse as time moved on.  
I dimly remembered how I left Guinevere and went off towards where the hidden path must be. It had been as good a guess as any to where Gwaine might be, and I had known I was running out of time. On my way there I had decided to sit down for a few minute s, and then – just blackness.

I only realised I had slipped back into unconsciousness when I woke up again, still completely paralysed, sweating despite feeling cold, strangely tired and weak, my left side hurting even worse than before. But now I could hear people moving around, calling out to one another, and the sound of hurried steps, coming from all directions. It was a long while until someone knelt down beside me and checked if I was still alive, then this someone lifted me up carefully, but it hurt like hell nonetheless.

A lot of moving followed while I slipped in and out of unconsciousness again, then I heard the man carrying me calling out to someone: “I found Will! She's alive!” and I recognised Percival's voice.

* * *

 

Time passed.

I was still unable to move and therefore blind, all I could do was listen intently when I was awake. There were other wounded people close by, and persons moving around, obviously tending to them. It smelled of blood and herbs, and when the wind got stronger, I could hear a rustling of fabric, so I figured I was in Gaius' big tent, which also explained why the pain in my left side had subsided: He had given me something for it.

The fabric rustled, and someone hurried in: “I only just heard! How is she?”  
It was Gwaine, and I fought again for control over my body and tried with all my strength to pry my eyes open, but nothing happened. Meanwhile I felt a light pressure on my right hand being removed, and realised that someone had been holding my hand.

“When is she going to wake up again?”, Gwaine added, now nearer, and I felt calloused fingers gently touching my right cheek.

The physician's voice was hoarse when he spoke, and he was just as close as Gwaine was, so I figured it must have been him who had sat beside me before: “She's not. She won't make it through the night.”

“What?”, Gwaine asked incredulously.

What?, I echoed silently, but that can't be. Not so fast, not like this – I have a promise to keep!

“But her wound was minor, Percival said! He knows what a fatal wound looks like. It's supposed to be a mere cut!”, the knight protested in my stead.

“It is.”

“Then why...?”

“I can't stop the wound from bleeding, no matter how much or what method I try”, Gaius said, and his voice sounded unbelievably tired. “Also, infection has already begun to spread and she's burning up with fever. She's too weak to withstand it for long. This is not an ordinary wound, I'm afraid.”

“That can't be right. Not now! We need her. We've found Mordred's body, the hills are crawling with fleeing Saxons, Arthur is still missing...”

Gaius sighed and I heard him sit back down again: “So is Merlin. I assume they'll be together.”

There were a few heavy moments of silence.

“But she can't be dying”, Gwaine murmured, and I felt him grab my hand fiercely.

“She will be missed”, Gaius said, and he meant it. His voice was heavy with emotions. Then I heard someone from farther away call for his assistance, and steps moving away from where I lay.

The tent's fabric moved again and someone was brought in who was screaming wordlessly out of sheer pain.

I heard Gwaine move abruptly. He lifted me up and this time I felt almost nothing: “Not here”, he said, and I heard tears and anger mix in his voice.

He left the tent with me and carried me for quite some time, until the sounds of the camp behind us died down. I could no longer smell blood and was unfathomably thankful Gwaine did this for me – he knew how much I hated to have to stay in confined places.  
While he carried me, he didn't say a word, and his breathing was laboured, though I wasn't sure if that was because of my weight or because he was fighting down his emotions with all his might.

When he finally stopped, it had begun to drizzle. Typical.

“I think this is a good place”, Gwaine said quietly and laid me down on the ground. “I'm not sure if you can hear me, Will”, he carefully brushed away a strand of hair which had fallen over my face, like I had, such a long time ago, for him. “But I really, really hope you do. You'd like it here: It's just on the edge of the wood, a big, grassy stretch, with quite a view. Or so I think. It's a bit misty now... There's a stream close by, can you hear it?” His voice faltered.

I heard Gwaine moving and then felt his arm around me, lifting me up a bit, resting my chin on his chest. I could hear his heart beating, fast, but strong, and if I only could have, this would certainly have been the moment to start crying.

I'm so sorry for the mess, Gwaine, I thought, and I really wish I had time to tell you... so many things. I was looking for you to say goodbye. I didn't mean to leave like this.

The pain in my shoulder was returning, burning, searing, getting worse with every passing moment, and despite the rain getting heavier, I felt hot and sweaty.

“I'm so sorry I broke my promise”, Gwaine continued, his arm still around me, holding me in place and I tried to listen to his words and forget about the pain. “I promised you wouldn't have to do this alone.”

But you wanted to help Leon and Percival. That's what you do. That's what I had done, if I had had any choice.

“I should never have left your side. I failed.”  
Oh Gods. Don't ever say that.

“They are save, by the way”, he added absent-mindedly, unaware of how much his words had startled me. “Leon has been knocked unconscious, but he'll be all right. And Percival hasn't been harmed at all.”

I felt relief flooding in, relief, and something else: Exhaustion.

“I just wonder if you ever found Arthur – did you two save him? Have you succeeded in taking away Morgana's magic? Where are Merlin and Arthur now?”  
Gwen'll tell you. She knows.  
The knight sighed and pulled me closer: “What are we supposed to do when it's all over? I'm sure you know, and if you didn't, you'd find something...”

I felt like my whole left side was on fire, but fought against the darkness coming in, a darkness which had nothing to do with having my eyes closed.

“You know, I had somehow hoped all this would end with you being able to stay in Camelot. You're my... friend, and I can't – I don't want to loose you. I don't even know your real name...”, the knight whispered, “I need you to fight, Will, you hear me?”

I don't think I have a choice about that any more.

All the while the buzzing in my ears got louder and Gwaine's voice seemed to fade away gradually. I had to really concentrate on his words, and understanding their meaning got harder with every moment that passed.

“There's something I've been meaning to tell you for a long time, but there never seemed to be the right moment, and it took me so long to realise it. And when I finally did you were gone, and after you came back, you needed to concentrate on saving Arthur. It meant so much to you, to us all, and I didn't dare distract you, so I tried...” He paused for a moment, then said pointedly, “tried to distract myself – but now, there won't be another chance, so...”

I never heard what he'd wanted to tell me, and he never got to hear what I had been meaning to tell him.

Suddenly my ears popped, my breath caught in my throat, my heart beat wildly, then stopped, and then there were a few seconds of absolute darkness, a feeling of numbness, shock and regret, and I felt being ripped out of one universe and was mercilessly thrown into another.

It hurt when I came back together again.

It hurt even more when I realized that I had, again, lost everything.

* * *

 

**Not quite the end yet.**


	11. Epilogue

I close the door to the Coffee Shop and take a deep gulp of fresh air. Whenever I leave the shop, I can't get enough of it.

Fran is already waiting for me under the street lamp which stands exactly between the Antiques Shop where she is working and the Coffee Shop where I'm working.

Starting on our way home, we talk about the days we've had until she asks: “So – you're going to the theater then?”

I shake my head: “Not sure yet. Ellie mentioned she wanted to go, so maybe I have to work her shift.”

She gives me a curious look: “Well, I'll go. Wouldn't miss the series 6 premiere for anything in the world.”

I force myself to laugh and hope she'll drop the topic. And she does, only to start on something else I'm not quite comfortable talking about: “Did you have any more of your weird dreams lately?”

“You sound just like Doctor Bergmann”, I sigh, “though his questions usually aren't so straight forward. - Yes, a few.”

“What did Bergmann say about them?”

“He believes they are memories of my past which I'm suppressing. He tells me this is a very common thing happening to patients with amnesia and I shouldn't worry about them too much.”

“Wouldn't it be good if your memory came back? Maybe the dreams are a first sign that it is returning?”

“I'm pretty sure these aren't memories, Fran.”

“Why not?”

“Because... Remember that guy I told you about?”

“The good looking one with the hair and the beard and the muscles?”

I raise an eyebrow at her: “I never said anything about muscles.”

She laughs: “That's how you made me imagine him.”

“You make me sound like a lovestruck girl! Anyway – I think... I believe – well, I'm pretty sure he's a knight.”

“A knight? A proper one, you mean?”

“Yes.” I feel my face getting hot: “He has a coat and a sword. Sometimes at least. And then there's this other guy, giving orders, and a servant, and...”

I see she's looking at me incredulously and make a face: “Forget about it. It's ridiculous.”

There's a tense silence between us until she tries to laugh it off: “You sure you don't want to see the new season of Merlin? Sounds exactly like your kind of thing.”

“No, I'm absolutely sure I will not”, I say and sound harsher than I had intended.

“Look, I'm sorry”, I murmur, “it's just... I get a queer feeling when you talk about that series. I don't know why, but ever since they announced they would continue it, I have a bad feeling. No, that's not it. I feel... sad. And lonely, maybe? Can't explain it, really.”  
I stop talking because I'm on the verge of tears for no apparent reason.

Fran and I walk on in silence until we reach the corner where our ways home part.

She embraces me and then gives me a serious look: “Maybe that's something you should discuss with your shrink” I wince at the word, “but maybe you just have bad memories connected to the series. I'm sure he's right: Try not to worry about it. It's just another stupid series.”

I shrug, but smile at her thankfully: “Thanks, Fran. See you tomorrow?”

“You still have to ask?” She laughs and then calls over her shoulder: “Bye!”

* * *

 

I have to hurry to the bus station, my thoughts still buzzing with Fran's approach to my problems with this stupid TV-series.  
Maybe she's right.

It's been months since I woke up in a hospital bed without any knowledge about myself whatsoever, and though the doctors told me not to push myself too hard, and my family patiently explained again and again what I was like, where I worked, where I lived, how I was a person who liked living in the city, mixing with people and going to parties, I feel like they don't know me at all. Even my name sounds wrong still, despite all this time passing and all the sessions I've spent with Doctor Bergmann, always looking accusingly at me over his thick glasses, fingering his odd necklace, pursing his lips at me when I refuse to tell him how I'm feeling and what that particular dream was about. He thinks I'm not 'cooperative', but a fact is that I'm feeling much safer when I talk to Fran, a friend I found after all this happened and who only knew my “new” self, as my mum keeps calling it. Or kept calling it – we haven't talked much recently.

I turn my collar up against the cold wind and cross the street, still deep in thought. Looking up, I see another one of these big posters with the Merlin cast on them, saying “coming soon”.

I've heard people talk excitedly about the upcoming premiere. The sixth season is supposed to have everything a proper show has to have after having been 'officially cancelled' for a year: The usual cast rejoining, a new villain to despise, lots of drama and heartbreak to endure, lots of unexpected tweaks, nice effects... – ever more reasons for affectionate fans (both new and old) to love it more with every episode.  
As I heard only a few days ago, there's also talk of a new knight joining Camelot's ranks, a fact people are especially excited about since -

Suddenly I'm on the ground with my face up toward the sky. I can see a few stars, and the moon, but only for a moment before a cloud hides her bright light. A face appears in my vision, but it is strangely unfocused and blurry. Nothing is making sense. Why am I down here? A moment ago I was on the street, wasn't I?  
Bits of frantic conversation reaches my ear:

“She came out of nowhere, not looking where she was going... I tried to stop but – Oh god, she is dead, isn't she? Did I kill her?”

“Someone call an ambulance!”

“Hold on, girl, hold on, help is on the way, you hear me...?”

A thought forces itself on me, and it's a very strange one, that much I do realise: Here we go again, then...

* * *

 

When I open my eyes again, I'm confused. I don't know where I am or how I got here. I remember... Well, I'm pretty sure I remember how I died. Again. I push the unbidden thought away. I learned that in one of Doctor Bergmann's sessions: “Sometimes you will have thoughts you don't know the source of. That's normal for people with amnesia. You can ignore them, and eventually, they will cease.”

That's what he said, anyway.

I grope around in the dark, trying to find out where I am, but there's no indication whatsoever. I make a step forward, very slowly, my arms outstretched in case I hit a wall, but there's nothing. Another step. Nothing. Another step. Nothing. Another step. Noth – no. I do reach a wall. It feels uneven, cold and damp. I follow it along in the hope to find a light-switch, but instead I stumble over crude steps leading upwards. There's a gust of wind from behind. It's ice-cold.  
Slowly, I go on, up the stairs, until I reach a wooden grate. It opens easily, and I continue upward.

Then I see light ahead, but it's strangely unsteady and has an unusual, yellowy-red tinge.

I also hear people talking. They have rough voices and seem to be only men.

When I'm able to see what lies ahead, I come to a dead stop – if I didn't know any better, I'd think I'm in a dungeon. Which is completely absurd. I was in the middle of a city, and nowhere near any building old enough to have a dungeon. I also have a feeling of... familiarity? Like I have been here before.  
Which is utter nonsense. I've never even been to see any dungeon.  
Maybe I'm having yet another creepy dream. At least this would explain the strange light: There are torches burning in holders on the wall.

While I keep staring, I hear steps coming closer and then a commanding voice calling out: “Who's there? Reveal yourself!”

When I keep quiet, there's the sound of a sword being unsheathed. I don't stop to remember why I know this sound and dash madly ahead, barely avoiding crashing into someone in my way. There's another staircase leading up which might be my way out of – whatever this strange place is. I'm halfway up the stairs when the door at the top opens.

I stop abruptly, my heart beating fast in my chest. I slide down the wall, shaking, and close my eyes, chanting: “This isn't real, I'm dreaming, this isn't real...”

When I feel someone touching my shoulder, I start screaming hysterically while keeping my eyes shut fast. It'll go away in a minute. It'll go away. Not real.  
I raise my fists in defence nonetheless.

An incredulous voice asks: “Will?!”

My heart misses a beat and though I have no idea why, I open my eyes, only to stare into the face of the man of my dreams (the one with the hair and the beard and the muscles), looking at me with unbelievably wide eyes. I stop screaming out of surprise and stare back at him in disbelief.

“How do you – I mean when – Why – How?”

His eyes are full of tears, I realize, and I'm sure he means no harm, even though I don't know him. When I say nothing, he takes a step back and repeats: “Will? Are you all right?”

“Where am I?”, I ask, my voice barely audible. The man, who does indeed wear a red cloak and has a sword, looks to the second guy who has come upstairs after me, a giant who is apparently made of muscles only, who only shrugs, his face concerned.

The first man turns back to me: “Do you know who I am? Please tell me you know who I am.”

“...Who are you?”, I ask, catching myself biting my lip nervously.

He closes his eyes and exhales loudly, looking heartbroken. I feel like I should comfort him, though I can't explain why.

The second knight extends his hand toward me to help me up: “My name's Percival, and this is -

* * *

 

Gwaine enters the room.

“Is it - ?“, I ask excitedly.

“Not yet. But it won't be long now, or so they told me.”

He sits down beside me: “Aren't you finished yet?”, he asks, grinning.

I shake my head: “Writing down one's story takes it's time, you know.”

He smirks, and then suggests: “But you won't write down the whole year that passed since then, will you? It's been pretty quiet, don't you agree?”

I snort: “Of course. I'll even write every excruciatingly boring detail down when I think it's important – and as this is my story, I'm the judge of what is and what isn't. Do it right or don't do it all, or so they say.”

He looks at the page I am currently on and nods: “Well, you're definitely progressing fast. Last week we were...” His finger moves upward a few lines and stops where a thick drop of ink smears over the precious page: “Here.”

“It's not so easy when you have to save the world every other day”, I scold him, and he only laughs in answer.

“You like being a knight as much as I do”, Gwaine states, playfully slapping my back as only men do (though I have yet to understand why they do so).

“Do you need me for anything?”, I ask when he doesn't get up again.

“Not really. I just missed you.”

“You have seen me this morning. We ate breakfast together, have you already forgotten? It was only an hour ago or so.”

His face becomes solemn while he takes my hand: “When you came back I swore to myself I would never leave you out of my sight again.”

I squeeze his hand knowingly. He thought me gone forever for almost three months, and when I came back again, it was a shock, not only for him, but for everyone else as well. I had died, and according to the changer-rules I should never be able to return.  
Gwaine said he'd watched my body disappear while he had been in mid-sentence.

I don't really know how I came back here or why, but I do know that nothing every could make me happier than to be here – even though it still is dangerous and bad things tend to happen around Camelot's court. But that's just how life works, I gather. It would be boring otherwise, wouldn't it?

Gwaine looks down at our clasped hands: “Remember when we accompanied Elyan and Gwen to their fathers grave?”

I close my eyes and concentrate, searching my mind for the memory. When the council took away my power for good, my memory went with it. I can't remember much any more, especially about the worlds I've been to before, but since I came back here, I've become pretty good at conjuring up memories I had thought lost forever, though it gives me a headache most of the time, and sometimes the memories are fuzzy or incomplete.

I know now that my shrink Doctor Bergmann was one of the council's members employed to keep me from remembering. My powers wouldn't have come back, but it would've been painful, and they didn't want that to happen.  
Maybe in the end the council was kinder than I gave them credit for.  
I even remember actually agreeing to these actions – apparently it wasn't as unusual for a changer to become rogue as I had imagined, and this was normal procedure.

“I think so”, I say after a while in which Gwaine patiently waited, and open my eyes again. “You poured your water skin over me, I wrestled you to the ground in revenge and definitely won the match... and wasn't Percival laughing at us?”

He nods and grins, his eyes distant: “That was when I first realised it.”

“What?”, I say teasingly, though I think I know exactly what he's talking about.

“That was when I knew I had completely fallen for you.”

Smirking and blushing, I untangle my hand from his and take my pen up again: “I have to go on, now, or I'll never finish it. Begone, foul spirit! Go ahead and do some training! You'll need it.”

Gwaine laughs and winks at me roguishly, but remains sitting by my side, a steadfast distraction.

After only a few words I lay the pen down again: “When will you ever learn to do as you're told? You are unbelievable!”

His smile widens: “No, I'm in love. Not quite the same thing.”

A warm feeling bubbles up inside me and my faked stern expression is replaced by a smile just as wide as his. Just as I'm about to kiss him, the door to our chamber bursts open and Merlin rushes in, his face flushed with excitement and happiness: “It's a girl! It's a girl!”

While the warlock dashes out of the room again, undoubtedly to tell all the world about the royal baby girl, Gwaine pulls me closer and whispers in my ear: “Look at that – princess got herself a Princess!”

* * *

 

**The end.**


End file.
